


Monster

by Thea_Lokidotter



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Historical Criminals RPF, Jack the Ripper RPF
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, London, Loss of Parent(s), Murder, Mutilation, Serial Killer, Suicide Attempt, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Victorian, implied child neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_Lokidotter/pseuds/Thea_Lokidotter





	1. Chapter 1

It was always noisy in London. That didn’t bother Victoria Lewis. She had lived in London her entire life, born in Whitechapel in 1873. Nothing about London could bother her. Not the noise or the smell, the filth or the people. Victoria loved the city, and nothing about it bothered her at all. Nothing.

 

Jack Adams was born in the year 1868 in London’s Financial District. His father was a prominent doctor and his mother, a socialite. Growing up, he had everything a young boy could want, everything but the attention of his parents. But over all, Jack was a happy child. Until everything went wrong.  
On the day of his eighth birthday, 1876, Jack’s parents were coming home from a small trip into the city center. On the way, there was a terrible storm and their carriage was driven off the road. Both Mrs. and Mr. Adams died that night. It was a young police officer from the newly formed Scotland Yard that came to tell Jack about the accident. A young Mr. Fredrick Abberline. Little Jack Adams was placed in an orphanage in the district of Whitechapel, and soon Mr. Abberline forgot about the little Adams boy whose parents died on a terrible stormy night. Little did he know that young master Adams was going to become the subject of his obsession not 12 years later.

Victoria was the daughter of a prostitute. London was full of them so that wasn’t unusual in the least. Her mother tried to be a good mother, which was unusual. Her mother tried but she was an alcoholic, she could barely afford to feed Victoria and she was sick. So in 1884, when Victoria was 11 years old, her mother dying of God-knows-what, brought her to the Ten Bells pub in Whitechapel. Miss. Milton, the women who owned the place, was an acquaintance of Victoria’s mother and she owed her a debt. A big debt. Victoria was left with Miss. Milton and never saw her mother again.  
Jack hated the orphanage. He hated everything about it. As he grew older, his hatred for the place grew with him. He hated the people, the food, even the other children. But most of all he hated Mr. Fredrick Abberline for leaving him there. All the hate Jack had boiled in him every day and he grew more and more bitter until he was a dark, brooding boy.

By the age of fifteen, Jack was easily the oldest in the orphanage, and by then, he ran the place. He had learned at an early age how to make people bend to his will and he was good at it. But by 1884, 16 year-old Jack was done with the hated Orphanage and all its bad memories. He had an easy enough time slipping out when no one was watching but he had no idea what to do next. He always had dreamed of being free of that place but had never given much thought as to want to do next. But he was tall for his age; with dark hair and dark eyes, he was an imposing figure, and he was handsome, all things that, he found, came in very handy.

It was only a few months after escaping the hell-hole that was Whitechapel Orphanage that Jack Adams found himself walking into the Ten Bells pub, sitting down at the bar and looking up only to see a pretty young girl with bright red hair staring at him.  
"Can I help you?" he asked.  
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Can I get you something to drink?”  
“Sure.”

This was the first time Jack Adams and Victoria Lewis ever met. And they would meet at the same time every day after that. Jack came in and sat down in the same spot. Victoria, ready with a simple beer, would sit across for him and they would talk.  
It was a year after this started that Jack mentioned that he had wanted to be a doctor, like his father, when he was young.  
“You should do it,” Victoria had replied  
“I can’t be a doctor. You need money to go to school and, in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t got any.”  
But the idea of going to school to be a doctor continued to bother Jack. And a few months later, he and Victoria were knee deep in a plan to get him in to the school.  
Jack had learned at the age of three how to be quite and listen. And that he did, very well. It wasn’t long before this particular talent of his won him some prized information on a top surgeon at the Royal London Hospital. It wasn’t long after he brought this information to said top surgeon that he was offered an internship at the hospital. He gladly accepted. It was 1886 and he was 18 years old.  
It took four months of salaries until he was able to buy a flat. It was like most flats in The East End, dirty and small. But it was better than the street and Jack was happy for it.

Two years later, in February of 1888, Jack, now 20, was given a high position in the Hospital. He was now officially a surgeon. And, most importantly, he was now making enough money to support himself. With this new financial improvement, Jack decided something. He asked Victoria to move in with him and be his girlfriend. She accepted, glad to be rid of old Mrs. Milton and glad to no longer have to 'see to' some of the customers at the Ten Bells in order to pay her rent there.

By April, Victoria started to see a side of Jack that she hadn’t noticed before. He was overly protective, hated her being around other men. He was quick to anger and violent when upset. She thought that it was simply ridiculous and brushed it off but he continued to act that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Then, on August 23rd someone took it too far. Mary Ann Nichols was at the Ten Bells and very drunk. Victoria was working that night and Jack was there, waiting for Victoria’s shift to be over. Victoria was serving Mary Ann Nichols a new drink when she was bumped into and dropped the drink on Mary’s lap. In a drunken fit, Nichols grabbed a knife from the table over and made a swift motion for Victoria’s neck.

In an instant, Jack was between them, his hand on the knife’s handle. His face was dark, looming and looked mad enough to kill.  
“Jack...” Victoria laid her hand on his arm. “It’s okay...”  
He turned and walked out of the pub, Victoria on his heels.

Not ten days later, around 3 in the morning, Jack was on his way home from a night shift at the hospital. It had been a long shift and he was tired and in a foul mood. As he walked, he let his hand wander into his pocket where he ran his forefinger and thumb over the smooth handle of his surgeon’s knife.

He was walking home down Buck’s Row. At first, he thought that he was the only person on the road but, as he drew closer to the end of the walk, he noticed that a lone figure was standing on the corner. The closer he got to her, the more nervous he became. He had realized that she was in fact Mary Ann Nichols and he had not forgotten what she had done to Victoria.  
'God, it’s her,' Jack thought to himself. 'I’ll just cross the street and walk right past her.'  
But this didn’t go as planned. Mary Ann Nichols was drunk again and when she saw Jack, she didn’t recognize him. All she saw was a handsome young man who maybe have a little cash on him that could pay for a room at a lodging house.  
“’Ello mister. My, aren’t we ‘andsome,” She called out to him. Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Mary Ann Nichols crossed the street to where Jack stood, still as stone.  
“You look like a nice young man. What are ya doin’ in parts like theses?” She placed her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. She smelled like whiskey.  
“You’re Mary Ann Nichols, aren’t you?” He looked down at her, glad that his face was half in shadow for the murderous look that had come over it.  
“I am, rightly so.” She hummed slightly to herself. Suddenly she stopped and looked really hard at his face.  
“‘ang on, I know you. You’re wif that red-‘ead girly, ain’t ya?”  
All Jack could do was give a curt nod.  
“Well, blimmy. She ain’t much, now is she? What she, fifteen? You knows what you needs? A real woman. That’s what you needs, deary.”  
He snapped. Jack was a powerful young man and easily overpowered her. His hands shot out and closed around her neck, as he squeezed she slowly sank to the ground, her eyes budging and full of fear. When she was on the ground, he removed his hands. She lay perfectly still. He knelt and placed two fingers on the side of her neck, checking for a pulse.  
“Damn it,” he mumbled. She was still alive and he knew she would be able to have him arrested. Something he did not want. Besides, did she really deserve to live?  
He pulled the surgeon’s knife from his pocket. He raised it to her throat, right where she was going to cut Victoria. He slit one way, then the other.  
Blood started to pour out of the wounds. He stood, his pant legs already soaked and started to walk away. Then he stopped. His superior had been complaining about the need for new organs for the early level students. And she clearly wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Besides, he had never cut a freshly dead body. Just the long dead or still alive ones, and he was curious.  
He knelt next to her corpse again and placed the knife between her collarbones. He pressed until it cut skin, then pulled it down, creating one deep jagged cut. He placed smaller cuts along the abdomen, until he could easily open up the chest cavity. He was about to start removing some of her organs when the sound of cart near by startled him. He jumped up, replaced the knife in his pocket and strolled off. He didn’t care if he had blood on him; he was a surgeon after all.  
When he got home, Victoria was still asleep. He quietly changed and cleaned the blood off the knife. By the next morning, the entire East End knew about the murder. When Victoria heard about it, she turned and looked at Jack. When they were alone, she asked if he knew anything about it. He just stood there, quietly thinking for a while before he sat her down and told her everything. He trusted her.

On September 2nd Victoria was working at the Ten Bells again. She was cleaning mugs behind the counter when a woman she knew well walked in. Annie Chapmen walked right over to her and whispered that she needed to talk with her right away. Victoria nodded and followed Annie into the yard of the pub.  
“I think I know who killed Mary Nichols,” Annie whispered to Victoria. “I’m sorry Victoria, but I fink t’was Jack.”  
Victoria’s face grew frighten. '‘ow did she know?' she thought in a panic.  
“Why?” Victoria asked Annie.  
“Well, t’em coppers was saying that the person what done it knew the ways a’ the body. Jack’s a surgeon. He’d be able t’ cut ‘er up the way she was. Also he ‘ad a bone to pick wif her. She tried to kill you, she did.”  
“It wasn’t him. It wasn’t!” Victoria insisted.  
Annie didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop.

Later that night, Victoria ran home in a panic.  
“She knows that it was you!” She whisper when she got home.  
“Who does?” Jack demanded, standing up.  
“Annie Chapmen, she knows that it was you.”  
Jack looked out the window for a long, long time. Finally, he turned to Victoria.  
“I’ll take care of it.” 

The next morning, Annie Chapmen went to the Star Magazine. She asked to speak with a reporter about the Whitechapel murder. She told him that it was done by a young man by the name of Jack. He thanked her and thought nothing of it.


End file.
